I have a theory that Victoria’s Secret creates their own system of bra sizes so you think you’re bigger than you actually are. Because if you live in America, your breast size must be important, right?

So not only do they have you fit in a size that would be swimming on you in any other store, they also charge a fortune.

This theory does not apply to their underwear.

I’m fan of the 5 for $25 or 3 for $30 or whatever they’re doing when I walk in the door. I like their variety of cuts, styles and colors. I also know that when I find a pair I like, I better scoop up as many as possible because other than their traditional bikinis, the styles are ever-changing.


It appears that with underwear, smaller is better. And I’m not talking a little higher cut on the rear with a little lace that’s oh-so cute (and surprisingly comfortable). I’m talking about squeezing what I think is a relatively small rear end into something labeled medium  that is almost as big as a postage stamp. Almost.

(And oddly enough, in my favorite VS undies, I wear a small. Consistency? What’s that?)

At 5:37 a.m., when the kicky black and white nautical striped skivvies once again inched their way towards the great divide, I was ready to rip them off, hang them on a pole and surrender to the Secret.

You can’t return underwear, people, (And if there’s some place you can, please, I beg you, DON’T.) so it looks like I’m stuck with thong that is not supposed to be a thong and out $9.95.

I think Victoria might need some meds.